The Grand Redo

Ever wanted the chance to redo something? Redo a day you messed up? Redo a moment you said something you regret? To redo an experience that kinda flopped a bit? Regret is a powerful feeling.

One time I actually got a redo. 

It wasn’t completely a redone event, but it felt remarkably like the chance to right a wrong I had done.

The wrong was when I was 16 years old. I was living in Arkansas with my family and was a part-time church pianist. I could sit down and sight-read music from the hymn book but typically the music director gave me the songs the night before Sunday church so I could run through them. This made me feel more comfortable since I already felt “outside my box”. It was a good experience for me to push myself and use my talent for God’s glory. 

During this same time frame, my family visited a small church where a friend was the preacher. They didn’t have any musicians. Not. One. Single. Pianist. In. The. Whole. Congregation. And there I sat. The pastor friend knew I played the piano. From the pulpit he asked me if I’d be willing to come up and play for church. He assured me it didn’t have to be perfect but they would just love to have music again.

I froze.

To say that I struggled with fear at that point in life would be a major understatement. My fear of man (people), fear of rejection and fear of failure all collided in that one moment and I freaked. I shook my head no. “Are you sure? You can tell us if you don’t know the song…” he was everything but pleading. I said no again.

I remember sitting there after that and singing acapella with the congregation, all the while a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt justified to say no because he hadn’t given me any warning. I made a dozen excuses in my head but my heart knew…I should have said yes. It was selfish to hide my talent in the sand when these precious people just needed to hear music again.

I still regret that my fear of not being perfect held me back from being a blessing to others that day.

It didn’t take me long to realize my mistake. Mostly against the God who gave me a gift and then I wouldn’t use it to praise Him. I vowed that if ever given the chance again, I would say yes, no matter how afraid I was.

It would be fourteen years before I got my redo.

I was thirty years old and on a prison ministry trip to Alaska. A small part of our team traveled to several places in Alaska to do prison work and also ministered in a couple churches.

One small church was in Seward, Alaska and had a wonderful group of Jesus-loving people. On our way in, I met the pastor and we talked about random things. Somehow he asked if any of us played the piano. One of my co-workers also happened to be a former piano student of mine so she volunteered me immediately. I played it off and we all pointed fingers for a few minutes about who could really play. Ya know how you do…all bragging on each other and hoping your friend gets picked to do whatever the thing is.

It wasn’t long before I saw why he asked. The pastor was doing everything. He was the preacher, the song leader and the only musician. He did a good job…but he was a one-man leadership team. Bless him! He had a heart as big as Texas and loved these people well.

As he finished preaching he gave an altar call and in all seriousness he said, “now I’m gonna and Sister Faith to come up and play some quiet music while we open up the altar.”

Did he really just say that? My two friends were smiling and nudging me in the seat…with their heads bowed of course.

That little church scene from fourteen years before flashed in my memory. This was my redo. It didn’t matter what I sounded like or if I was prepared, this man was asking for me to come and use the gift I’d been given for Jesus.

I stood up and walked quietly to the front.

Well- let’s see what this hymn book has in it…y’all know every denomination has their own and the songs are slightly different in each version. I fumbled through a few pages and then started playing some hymn I found. Eventually I felt myself relax and started playing from memory.

As I sat there and played, a peace washed over me. The kind that you have when you know you have pleased the heart of the Father and He is smiling. An intense gratefulness flooded my heart and worship rose up in me. Now I was playing the piano AND crying.

Jesus is so compassionate. So kind. So loving to allow us sometimes to redo the things we regret. Opportunities to step up when we have previously stepped out in fear. They are reminders to me that I want to consistently say YES to Jesus, despite the uncomfortable tasks at time. Because 20 seconds of insane courage is always better than years of regret.

I’m thankful for grand redos in life but insane courage is where I want to set up camp. What about you?